Raindrops That Taste of Salt
by WeLonelyOldSouls
Summary: Lara returns from Yamatai, something she truly believed would never happen the entire time she was on the island. Now, she has to deal with everything she's done there, and everything unearthed. Yamatai was supposed to be her thesis- and instead it was a waking nightmare. Is this who she wants to be?
1. Chapter 1

The bike crept slowly through the dark trees, puttering around familiar but long forgotten curves, engine purring as it crept ever forward. A raccoon ran across the road, and Lara nearly swerved and crashed her bike she was so keyed up. The shrink she had been forced to talk to in Japan had pushed her to go back home. Well, he said somewhere familiar, but aside from a set of storage units, Lara had no home. The apartment she and Sam had shared was gone; their lease expired. She had packed up her life and uprooted everything to go to Yamatai. Yamatai, which was supposed to be her masters' thesis and was instead a living nightmare.

Sure, there had been priceless artifacts, and more to discover than any explorer had found about the ancient eastern world in decades- but the cost had been too high. She wasn't certain, but Lara is pretty sure she signed away any claim to the artifacts and things found on the island. At the time, she wanted to forget everything about the place. To put as much distance between the island and herself. Sam must have thought the same, because the moment they were released she vanished.

It hurt to think about Sam. She hadn't faced what Lara had, hadn't killed and been tortured, hadn't climbed all over the damn place or been so brutally hurt. Sam had lived in fear, but she had been largely safe. Still, Lara couldn't judge her- trauma is trauma, and the amount means less than the existence of it at all. Sam had been hurting, but she didn't handle it well at all. At first, she threw herself into the work of recording and cataloguing. She was a business drone, going straight from bed to the warehouse where they were working. Then, once they had it all done, she left. Without a word to anyone, she was gone. Lara panicked, fearing that the Solarii had somehow followed them. But then Sam was caught in a photo of her Dad. Sam had just left them.

Lara wasn't dealing so well herself. Whatever scraps of progress she had managed to claw together had been blown apart by Sam's vanishing. They had worked for two months on the artifacts they recovered, had been healing and grieving and there for each other. Then Sam leaves, and the peace shatters. Lara left not three days after her in a whirlwind of hastily organized flights and manic desperation. She remembers getting on the plane in Japan, and then getting off in turkey. But in Egypt there had been a delay, and…

Lara blinked back awake in O'Hare in Chicago with no idea of how she got there. She wasn't even supposed to be in the States. She frantically found a flight back to England and jumped on the plane, only to realize halfway there that her luggage was gone. She didn't even remember if she had it in Chicago. Now, she's crouched over the handlebars of a motorcycle she thinks she rented, not stole, with a drawstring bag on her back holding the only thing left from it all: her dad's journal. Passing between moonbeams, Lara tries not to panic from the ghosts of Solarii warriors she sees in the shadows, fading in and out as she drives down the road. She pulls to the crossroad in a clearing, the bright moon keeping all shadow away from her and relaxes. She can see in every direction, and there's nothing out here. Only her, panicked and panting, the bike under her purring quietly. Lara calms her racing heart and steps back atop the bike wholly, looking both ways on the streets.

The howl of a wolf breaks the quiet night, and before she can think Lara is foot to the metal racing down the road, faster than the speed limits, faster than she should be, spectral ghosts flashing in the banks of shadow as she rushes and runs and tries to leave the memories and the fear behind. She has to slam on the brakes, bike skidding out from under her and into the ditch as a gate looms up from the darkness.

Looking up from the rocky end of the drive, Lara looks over the stately and imposing manor. Croft Manor. Her home.

The estate sat neglected, but it had been regal once, and she remembered the sight fondly. It was crumbling now, but the foundation was strong. The body still sat proud and sturdy on the hill, even if the adornment was in ruins. It was largely intact, even if in disrepair, but she could see problems even from this far out. The West wing was destroyed completely, the ancient oak having blown over some time in the past near decade. It broke through both floors of the western side, exposing them to the elements. Thankfully, her father's estate had pulled everything out of the home by then, but the damage had been done. Wet and cold and heat had eaten through the wood and worn away the stone. The joints were falling, the floor cracked and crumbling- it was entirely unsafe for anyone to even go near without protective equipment, much less live under.

The eastern side, in contrast, looked fine. Windows intact, walls still upright. It and the center entryway looked just like they had when she left them, minus some of the adornment. The stone crenellations and exposed parts had been weathered, and she was sure the windows and doors needed to be serviced or replaced. A cloud passed over the moon, and Lara's trance broke. She stepped back from the iron bars of the gate, unaware that she had been holding onto them long enough for her fingers to be stiff.

She turns and blows on her fingers, before fighting through the weeds and briars to get the bike from where it crashed in the ditch. She hates it, the panic, the unnatural fear and paranoia. Breaking down like she is she'd have never lasted on Yam- on the island. Climbing back out of the ditch, Lara ignores the blood dripping off of her hands and the strain in her muscles as she pushes the bike up before her. Leaning the bike on one of the crumbling columns marking the edge of the drive, Lara slips through the gates. She's painfully thin and fits easily through the iron bars. As she navigates up the crushed rock drive, now weed ridden and full of holes and rivulets, Lara smiles. She can hear Jonah's exasperation, hear the concern in his voice as he tells her it's not healthy to be so thin. It's an old argument for them, started back when they were just prepping for the trip.

Jonah always thought she was too thin, that she didn't eat enough. His concern was at first off putting, but she warmed to it as she realized it was genuine. He really did care about her well-being, even if he barely knew her. Jonah was one of those amazing people who help everyone they meet, regardless of what's going on in their lives. He'd give the shirt off his back if it would help someone and had a time or two. Lara lets his wards wash over her as she slips through a broken window. Before the trip, she'd been thin. But now, after weeks of not eating or sleeping enough, Lara has a frame that supermodels would envy.

The inside of the manor is a spartan as she was led to believe it would be. The welcome hall is barren; no furniture or tapestries, no artifacts or manuscripts. Nothing at all besides plastic sheeting and stone walls. Oh, and a few fast food wrappers. Lara clicks on her light and begins to wander. Upstairs and down of the entry hall is a tomb. Just dust stirred up under her feet to remind her that she's neglected yet another thing her father left her. Filled with guilt, Lara quietly pokes through the door and walks through the east wing.

The east wing had been her and her parents' home. The master bedroom was much the same, and yet completely different. If she closes her eyes, she still adjusts for the bedframe that had sat in the same place for almost her entire life. Yet, the stone floor and walls, the sloped roof, it was all so strange. Lara's mother hated the bare stone, said it made her feel uncomfortable and rough. So, the entire master room had been covered with cloth. Tapestries and pillows and rugs and drapes and fluffy blankets- with all the comfort stripped away the room had almost no memories.

Next door is her old room. It too is empty and cold, but she expects as much. She had already been away at boarding school when her mom died, and well, she never forgot her last scene of her dad. Passing the door to his study, Lara visibly recoils. Sure, he was right about some things, but still… Not yet. Passing by and turning the corner, she finds the guest rooms. As Lara walks through the first one, hand trailing on the doorframe, her fingers trace a carving set into the stone. E. H. C.

"_EHC? Edmund Hillard Croft!_" Lara's mind supplies. As her last living relative, Edmund had been precious to her. He had reached out to her just a week ago, wanting to meet and talk. It had been a long time since they exchanged more than Christmas cards, so she hopped a flight to New Zealand.

Lord Edmund Croft was her grandfather's elder brother. He had unfortunately gotten himself cast out of the line of inheritance. During a trip while he was in school, he toured Australia, which had been a colony at the time. He fell in love. Not with a girl, or even a guy, but with the land. Edmund phoned home, quietly explained what he wanted, and hung up. Two weeks later, he got a letter. In the letter was the papers for his inheritance, with one rider on- to accept it he had to renounce his claim to the family title, and any further gains. Edmund, heavy hearted but adamant, signed the documents.

He took the money and invested it in land. Due to a slight mistake in measuring, Edmund bought a lot more than he thought. A lot more. He thought they were negotiating kilometers, not acres. Overnight, he became a minor real estate mogul, simply due to the size of his holdings. Off-center from the overnight change in the attitudes of the people around him, he ordered construction for a home in his closest property. The workers started, and he laid back to wait.

Three days later, he gets a frantic call. Once he makes the man calm down, he starts to understand. The man is calling because some devil liquid is gushing out of the ground and soaking everything. It's thick and viscous and smells awful and- Edmund stops him there, thanks him for the work he had done and negotiates severance pay for him and his crew, after assuring the man that he has done no wrong. Edmund opens the first oil business in Australia. To his dismay, he only grows in prestige and popularity. He looks at his massive holdings and picks another spot to build a home.

Three weeks later, a French chemist on holiday stops by and tells him that the rocks his workers are digging up are dangerous. Construction halts again, and this time the Aussie government step in. They inspect the property, assess the trouble, and on the chemist's advice, lease the property from Mr. Croft. Edmund, though discouraged, sets out to build a third home. This time, he picks a place far away from the others. He throws a dart at the map and picks a swath of outback. He hires yet another crew of workers and gives them strict instructions to make the holding work.

It's a month before he checks in to find that they are doing their absolute best, but that he should probably hire security. The place is swarming with vagrants, all holding picks and shovels. Opals they tell him. Opals. Edmund, vexed, does the only sensible thing- he returns to the city and emigrates. He purchases a small island in New Zealand and has a home constructed with orders that no matter what is there, be it the gates of hell or God himself, there will be a home on the island, and Edmund will be living there.

Construction goes smoothly, and no supernatural phenomena reveal themselves. Edmund starts to live his life, finally in peace. Then the mail is delivered, with a considerable pile of contracts. Everyone wants to buy some of his land or dig for opals. Else, they want to be allowed to do research in his radioactive quarantine zone. Or, yet another batch, they want to drill for more oil. Edmund quietly curses the fates, digs out the one book on estate management he was forced to take with him, and orders for the rest, before setting out to build a small cabal of self-sufficient businesses.

The few times he returned to England, Lara remembers, he was very nice to her and her father. The two men got along very well. He always brought trinkets or stories for both Lara and her mother, smiling and laughing with wild tales of life round the world. He was her favorite and only Uncle, and when he sent for her after Yamatai, she came at once.

Lord Edmund sat her down in his sitting room, and they talked. He had been careful not to mention the island to her, nor the bags under her eyes, the painfully stark ribs poking under her shirt or the still healing cuts and gashes. She's thankful for this small mercy. Edmund told her he had never imagined outliving his brother, much less his nephew as well. But she was all he had left, and he wasn't getting younger. He had fallen and broken his hip while she had been trapped on the island. That had been his wake-up call. For a near century old man, Edmund Croft was in great shape. He attributed it to the climate and diet and waved her concerns away. He wasn't planning on passing on anytime soon, but it was time to discuss thing with her. He informed her that while he had let her ignore her father's holdings, she could not do the same with his when he passed. His investments, while somewhat stable, did need managing, and if left in the loop, they would wriggle away from her. He had her sign his updated will, and they parted with fond smiles and promises to get together soon.

Lara, pulled out of memories by something skittering in the hall, tenses before relaxing. It couldn't have been anything big enough to trouble her. She resumes her wanderings, absently counting the multitude of empty fireplaces. There are no less than sixteen in the east wing alone!

She swerves through the kitchens on her way out, blinking back an image of her mother perched on the stone island, coat on her shoulders, eating a carton of ice cream with a spoon. Lara never found out what had prompted that event, only that her mother had given her 8-year-old daughter a long look, before digging another spoon out of the drawer and offering it to her. Lara hopped up and together, they finished the carton. Poor Richard never knew why his wife and daughter had no appetite that night at dinner.

She's still trying to figure out what to do about the place, to figure out her plans. She left Japan with no real idea of what she was doing or where she stood. Was her master's thesis still in the works? Did she have any deadlines she was supposed to meet? Or taxes? She launched away from the support in Japan abruptly, and without stopping to listen to anyone. She was truly lost. But, she kind of had ideas in her head. Come home, resettle her life and recenter. Figure out what she wanted. Who she was. It was so much to try and tackle at once, even for her. Walking out of the kitchens, she's met with flashing blue lights outside the front door.

"Halt! Put your hands up, you're trespassing on private property!" an officer shouts.


	2. Chapter 2

"Halt! Put your hands up, you're trespassing on private property." The officer shouts. There's a split second that Lara considers complying, thinks about going quietly and letting them sort the mess out. A single moment that she's already stepping forward to go- but then his hand falls to his side in a way that is all too familiar to Lara, and her conditioned response takes over. Her forward step turns into a pivot and she sprints down the west hall, aiming for the servants' entrance. Legs flying underneath her as she leaps over the fallen debris and broken furniture, breath heaving from a panic she's been fighting for so long, heart thumping in a far too fast to be healthy way. The siren starts as she hears the engine roar and tires spin in the yard as they chase after her, no doubt calling it in. Lara whips around the curve of the hallway, feet kicking off the wall as her overmomentum sends her crashing into the stone.

But she can't stop, can't let them win. They have Sam, and they're planning on doing god knows what to her. Lara is her only chance. She just hopes she can get there in time, that she won't find Sam used and broken in some cell. Lara crashes through the window and rolls in the grass, forgetting that the servants' entrance was long remodeled away, the Crofts being one of the first in the peerage to get rid of their servants. The officer being the wheel slams on the brakes and swerves to dodge the crazy woman who burst out of the building right in front of them. Lara still catches herself on the hood, shoes thankfully skidding with the car on the wet grass rather than pulling her under. As soon as she has her feet she's off again, rabbiting along the moor on paths that are untrimmed, but still familiar to her. The officers give chase, jumping from the car whose headlights pierce the night to follow.

They're tracking her in the woods, and Roth is dead and she's gotten him killed and it's all her fault- Lara trips on a fallen tree, too dark to see the trunk in her way and can't stop her roll down the hill. The officers are slower behind her, pausing to turn on their torches and light their path. They follow for as far as they can, but Lara is used to hiding her trail, and these are no trackers. They lose her path in the wood, and turn back.

* * *

"Lara, you need to get up."

"Lara, get your lazy bones up."

"Little Bird, you can't stay here."

Lara jumps awake in shock, crying out in pain as her arm sends out fiery tingles that something is wrong. She's tangled in a pile of branches and weeds, most broken from her sudden impact. But her arm hangs at a bad angle. Lara grits her teeth and tugs the limb close, screaming into her shirt as she belts it to her chest to try and keep it from moving too much. Ignoring the wet clothes or the blood staining her head she sets off, leaving the parachute behind. She doesn't recognize the land, but that is nothing new. This whole island is something foreign and wrong to her. Her head pounds and when she pulls her hand back it comes with an unhealthy red sticky coating. She must have crashed harder than she thought. Something feels off in the back of her mind, but Lara pushes it aside. She climbs out of the pile of broken branches and sets off east, toward the rising sun.

* * *

The helicopter pilot is circling around, following the directions the officers passed on when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. Movement and something not forest colored. He pulls the stick back to hover and looks over- there she is. The mystery home invader who ran.

"Dispatch, be advised. I've found her. She's in the gully about 4 klicks from the highway, headed toward the dam." He radios.

"Understood. Standby." Dispatch replies, and he waits, "Pilot, you are cleared to return to base. Local units will take to from here."

"I read you. Headed home."

"Good job spotting her." Dispatch says, before letting the channel click off.

* * *

Lara hears the helicopter roars above her, which throws her addled mind another twist- the solaria didn't have helicopters. Nothing on the island flew, Himiko wouldn't let it. She thought it was blasphemy to be in the air, a defiance of her powers. But that doesn't change her direction, and Lara still follows her heading east. She grows worried as the trees start to thin being replaced by tall grasses. Without the solid trunks to protect her, Lara's heart starts beating faster.

"I see her!" someone shouts, and Lara panics, turning and running again. But this time there's light out and she's not in the same shape as before. The officers chasing her aren't hindered and there are more of them this time. She fights, smashing an elbow into the first one to get close to her, kicking another in the leg before breaking free again and running. But they swear and continue the chase, and other officers get close. One grabs her arm and she tries to fight but his grip is like a vise. She screams and kicks and whirls, but she can't break his grip.

"I'm not dying! I refuse to let you sacrifice me! Himiko isn't a god, she's a monster!" Lara screams. One of the officer's tugs on her broken arm and she screams in pain, eyes watering up as agony floors her brain. There's a knife and they cut at her belt on her arm but she can't see that and in her panic she thrashes the wrong way and they cut her shoulder. Finally they manage to cuff her, Lara fighting and screaming and eyes wild with fear and Mathias walks out from behind a tree, staff raised with his evil smile.

"No one leaves."He says. Lara, overwhelmed and overloaded finally passes out.

* * *

The two officers that drew the unlucky position of having to cart her back to the station share looks, with Lara strapped in in the back.

"What the hell Dave. What is going on there?"

"Fuck, I don't know, Rog. She wasn't acting like anyone I've ever seen."

"Think she's, you know-" he twirls his finger in the air.

"Nah, she's got all the lights on upstairs. But it's something weird."

"Her screaming-it was like she thought we was someone else."

"If she isn't batty then she went through something insane. Sacrifice? Gods? Sounds culty to me."

"I just hope she can get help. She definitely needs it."

"I'd say. She was light as a feather. I could feel every rib as I carried her."

"Damn. Hopefully she's gotten far away from that cult, I hate to think of anything like that around here."

"Whole place has gone to hell since the Croft's left."

"Yeah, but what'd you expect? The head shoots hisself, leaving his kid daughter behind to find his body- whole thing is cursed."

"Anybody call in that she's bleeding?"

Rog turns to look and swears, "Dispatch be advised, suspect is leaking blood all over my backseat. Request a medic be on station to patch her up."

"Dispatch hears. One will be waiting."

Having heard the whole story on the radio, the first thing the medic does, after making sure it's safe, is sedate Lara. He's not about to fight a girl who nearly took out two officers with one arm tied behind on her back. Once she's out, he starts his diagnostic and starts patching her up.

* * *

Lara wakes up and the first thing she sees are the bars. Her eyes go wide and she doesn't notice the lack of sulfur, the fluorescent lights, no screaming- all she can see are the bars holding her in. Her, trapped in the caves, waiting for someone to come along and do whatever with her, powerless to escape, to fight, stuck impotent against them, and a failure.

SAM! Sam is dead, sacrificed or bleeding out or something terrible, and Roth and Reyes were counting on her, along with Jonah and Alex and she let them down. The solaria took all of her guns and her bow, took her ammo and arrows, took everything from her. Even her journal and Sam's camera. She hates to think what is going to be on the card now.

The on duty officer notices that Lara is awake and hyperventilating, and notifies the arresting officer.

The man walks down the row of cells, really on three of them, and sits outside of her.

"Ms. Doe, we have a few questions for you while we wait for the lab results to come back.." When Lara doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge his presence, he sighs.

"Ms. Doe, ignoring me won't help anything. Ms. Doe." When she still doesn't even twitch, he reaches over and waves a hand in front of her stare. "Huh, nothing." He glances at the on duty officer and they share a look.

"Ms. Doe, you were found at Croft manor where you fled the scene. We found you nearly 16 hours later near the highway, do you remember that?" he asks.

When she still doesn't respond he opens his notebook and checks his notes, "Let's see, officers reported that you shouted about the sun while they were arresting you? About scarifies and monsters? Ma'am, if you're on the run from a cult we can help."

When he still doesn't get even a twitch he looks back at the on duty officer. "Wish we knew who 'Sam' was."

"Sam's gone." The voice is cracked and shaky, a dry hoarse whisper, but she finally responds.

"He is? What happened?" The officer asks, cracking his notebook to a clean page.

"She left. After we had sorted everything she disappeared."

"Sorted what?" he asks.

Lara frowns, "No, she was taken. By Mathias- he lied to us, pretended to be like us and then he took her."

"Who is Mathias?"

"But I got her back, at the castle. We- we blew it up and got out. But then Whitman took her back, he gave her to them."

"Sir, the lab reports are in! Sir, you've got to read this!" Someone shouts.

"What happened next?" the officer prompts.

Lara face hardens, and her eyes grow darker, colder, "I killed them all."

"Sir, that's Lara Croft!" The tech says, bursting down the hall, paper fluttering in his hand. "That's our missing Lara Croft."


End file.
